by M A Comley
“I beg your pardon?” Brendon asked.
She repeated herself. “Futile. That’s the word I was searching for. I feel like I’m swimming against the current. Not only am I not getting anywhere, but I also don’t know where I’m heading. It’s discouraging, and sometimes I feel like I want to put it in a drawer and just walk away and forget about it. But then, I would be guilty of failing twice, once for not writing the book and twice, for abandoning something that challenges me. Maybe there’s more to writing than only knowing how to use words. Maybe that missing element is lacking in me.”
“I still think you’re being far too hard on yourself. Remember, you’re on your own now. No one is looking over your shoulder and making judgments. You’re not competing with anyone in order to succeed.”
“I’m still competing with myself, though, and that’s the hardest part. If I don’t knuckle down and do it, I fail. Saying that, I don’t want to give up. I just don’t know where to start, or at least I didn’t.”
Brendon lifted the basket of rolls and offered her one, but Lucy shook her head. She wanted to finish her thoughts and not through a mouthful of bread.
He motioned with his hand. “Come on, talk to me. Let it all out.”
“All right. I know that I want to write a murder mystery, and you know, as well as I do, that’s one of the reasons I was pestering you for details about Mrs. Stiltson. It wasn’t that I wanted to write her story, in particular. It was just that I was searching for the foundation for my own book. And now, I think I’ve found it.”
“And what does this have to do with Mrs. Stiltson?”
“Nothing at all. Brendon, don’t be so quick to judge me. Hear me out. I think I want to write about Marnie.”
He cocked his head in surprise. “Is there something I don’t know? Has something happened to her?”
“She’s not dead, if that’s what you mean. Of course not. It’s her style of living that intrigues me. Somehow, she’s managed to create an entire world in that twelve hundred square-foot home. I don’t know all the details, but I saw Sylvia leaving her a bag of groceries today; in return, she lifted the welcome mat and retrieved a white envelope. My guess is that was the money to buy the groceries. So, it got me thinking. What if something happened to Marnie? She might not be seen for weeks and no one would know anything. No one expects to see her outside because of her illness. She’s all alone, and in some way, that makes her a target… you see what I mean?”
Brendon quietly buttered his roll, thinking. “Lucy, Marnie’s life is her own. It’s private. You don’t have the right to put her on the newsstand or in a bookstore, especially if it’s here in town. You do see you’re crossing the line, right?”
Lucy sighed. “I know. I’ve been battling with it ever since I came up with the idea. But you know as well as I do that Marnie isn’t the only one who has agoraphobia. It doesn’t have to be directly about her. But it could be about someone who has her challenges.”
“Lots of people have mobility issues that present challenges. Some people are forced to live their lives in a wheelchair, can’t you write a story about that?”
She groaned. “Yes, I know, there are different debilitating illnesses out there, but don’t you see? Marnie is the only one I know who chooses not to leave the house. Do you see the difference? Do you think if the thought occurred to her that she was in danger of being murdered, she would stick to her guns and remain indoors? Or would she summon up the courage to make a run for it? Is it even possible in some bizarre way that she would welcome death, possibly see that as a relief to put an end to her suffering?”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Brendon said, waving his hand left to right. “What you might consider to be an unfulfilling life certainly isn’t the same for Marnie. She seems perfectly normal to me, other than it scares her to leave her safe place. Why’s that so strange for you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Call it desperation, it’s the only thing that seems to have sparked my imagination lately. I need a plot, something interesting to sink my teeth into. Don’t you see that?”
“What I see is a woman with a dream who is looking to take a shortcut at the expense of a troubled neighbor. Unless I’m mistaken, that’s not who you are, Lucy. You aren’t that cruel.”
Her deep sigh was filled with resignation. “No, you’re right, I’m not cruel. I have been trying to talk myself into this all day. I think, in a small way, I was hoping that you would give it the seal of approval and I could move forward without having a bad conscience.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you that seal of approval. The only person who can do that is Marnie herself. Are you willing to put her through that sort of inquisition?”
“No.” Lucy shook her head, took another sip of her wine, and reached for a dinner roll. Now that she had burst forth with her big idea and it had been shot down, logically so, she resigned herself to making the most of their evening. The wine tasted delicious just then.
“No matter what you decide to do, I’m proud of you, you know?”
“That’s being kind. I think the truth is you’re relieved that I don’t embarrass you.”
“Just remember,” he said, reaching across the table to pat her hand that was holding the wine goblet, “You said that, not me.”
6
“I guess you heard. That woman who died was Dr. Stiltson’s wife.” Sally poured Lucy’s Mocha Java and slid it across the counter to her, then went over to the bakery case to fetch Lucy one of the scrumptious, famous giant blueberry muffins. People often traveled from surrounding states just to buy a dozen to take home. Not only were they delicious, but each one was the size of a softball, sprinkled with sugar crystals. Many a time, Lucy had seen people return after demolishing their purchases halfway home, often buying double the amount on their second trip, speculating loudly if they might have enough room in their deep-freeze. It was truly an honor to live in the same town as Sal and consider her as one of her good friends.
Lucy nodded. “Yes, I heard.”
“Oh, no-no-no, you’re not getting away with it that easily. There’s only one person you could’ve heard that from, and if Brendon knows what’s good for him, he’ll tell me the whole story. After all, I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Sally, your reputation precedes you when it comes to these muffins.”
“Muffins are one thing, but gossip is the true sign of an important woman,” she said. “And you heard that here.”
“I’ll tell Brendon you said so. Do you mind which table I take?” She surveyed the room and could see her regular table was available.
“Go right ahead. You know the way.”
“If you get tired of standing around, come join me,” Lucy tossed over her shoulder as she headed toward the table and spread out her things. It didn’t take long before the gossip was loud enough for her to hear. Everyone knew that Brendon and Lucy were dating, and it was proving a popular topic among the gossip group.
Cecilia James called out in her flat, loud voice that matched her fiery red hair. She was known for two things: her blunt speech and her never-ending dedication to any dog without a home. “What does Brendon have to say about all this? Did the doctor kill his wife?”
Lucy wasn’t sure how to react. She settled for opening her mouth as though she was surprised and held her hands out to the side with a shrug. “You’d have to ask him that.”
Yes, she realized she was being a coward, but she’d already found herself in hot water due to the case, and making Cecilia James happy was not worth risking her relationship with Brendon.
Cecilia was far from satisfied. The determined woman left her chair and made her way between the tables, her hips swaying fiercely until she reached and pulled out a chair with a screech that hurt Lucy’s ears. She fell into it and leaned forward until her face was mere inches from Lucy’s. “You can tell me. I won’t tell a soul.”
They both knew she was lying, but Lucy wasn’t about to call her on it
. “Cecilia, I don’t have anything to add. Brendon doesn’t tell me everything, you know. There is such a thing as investigative facts that aren’t released to the public.”
She shook her head, unsatisfied. “Don’t give me that. What goes on between a man and a woman doesn’t come under that heading.”
That remark left her sincerely peeved, and her mouth dropped open for a second or two. She recovered and said, “Cecilia, watch yourself. I know people around here are a little scared of you, but I’m not. What goes on between me and Brendon is our business, not for public consumption in the village. Do I make myself clear?”
She glared, rose to her feet and huffed her way back to her table. At least the conversation would change from the poor Mrs. Stiltson to how rude Lucy could be when she was cornered. Which was fine by her.
“What’s the matter with Cecilia?” Sal wanted to know as she sat down in the chair opposite, her cup of coffee in her hand.
“Oh, nothing serious. She was expecting me to spill the beans, but there weren’t any to be spilled. I sort of told her to mind her own business in a very polite way, and she chose to take offense. She’ll get over it.”
“Oh, of course, she will. Cecilia is only worried about one thing in this world, and that’s how many dogs she has to care for at her rescue center. Once they are fed, watered, and put to bed, she’s happy with the world. I think she needs a good man, myself, but I’m not going to be the one to suggest it.”
“Neither am I. I may not have much of a reputation, but I value what is left. Anyway, what’s new with you?”
“I came to ask you that same question. How’s the book coming?”
Lucy fought with herself for a few moments to keep from telling Sal the truth. She knew she could trust the older woman, but whether Sal would understand was something different altogether. “It’s not coming along very well at all. I’ve probably started on ten projects so far and deleted every single one of them by the end of the day. I just can’t seem to come up with an engaging plot.”
“Why don’t you use what you’ve got around you? Start with poor Mrs. Stiltson. There’s a murder for you.”
“Can’t. I don’t know that it has been officially declared as murder yet, and even if it has, chances are we’ll never learn who’s behind it. It would just be another story with a beginning and no ending. No, I need something a little closer to home.”
“Such as?”
She knew she should have bitten her tongue, but she had a bad case of running her mouth and confided in her friend after all. “Sally, did you know that Marnie Whitmore is something of a hoarder?”
Sally burst out laughing, slapping her hand on the pine table. “Of course. Everybody knows that.”
“She’s my next-door neighbor and I didn’t know. How did that escape me?”
Sally sat back in her chair, rotated her shoulders a few times and sighed. Lucy could tell she was tired, getting up every day at three in the morning was bound to take a toll on the body. “There’s a lot of things in this town that escape you, darlin’. I always thought how ironic it was that you were a newspaper reporter, but you always managed to miss the juicier stuff.”
“What do you mean?”
“The rest of the world doesn’t operate between the hours of nine to five, you know. The ultimate scandals, the real gritty parts of life, take place at three in the morning or just before the sun comes up. Mostly, it happens as soon as the bars in town close. Anyway, it was sort of nice that you didn’t cover those stories. It gave me hope that maybe it wasn’t such a bad town after all.”
“Wow. And there I was thinking I was privy to everything that went on in this town. I thought I had the basis for all kinds of books, but it just goes to show you I had no idea what was going on at all. In fact, I was talking to Brendon about that only last night.”
“Oh?” Sal lifted her coffee cup to her mouth, and before she took a sip, she caught a glimpse of Dan getting ready to pop a tray of donuts into the oven. “Dan, not yet, let them sit a little.”
Lucy felt sorry for Sal’s husband. Sal ran a tight operation, and from what she could tell, he was seldom up to her standards. Sometimes, Lucy wondered what their home life was like. Dan was a heavy-built man, but Sal was a hefty match for any man. Although saying that, Dan always treated her like a princess—she could do little wrong in his eyes. Lucy even thought that many of the ladies who came into Sal’s did so because they had a slight crush on Dan, regarding him as a real gent, who would come to their rescue if push came to shove. He was a special man.
Sally turned her attention back to Lucy. “And you were saying?”
Lucy waved a hand. “Oh, never mind. It doesn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.”
“Listen, some of the world’s greatest authors weren’t discovered because they spent too much time worrying about that first book being perfect. Writing is like anything else. It takes practice. Do you think I knocked out a perfect donut the first time? Heck no. Look at Dan there. He’s been backing me up for years and he still can’t get it right.” She reached over and patted Lucy’s arm. “When the right story comes along, you’ll know. In the meantime, keep your eyes and ears open to what goes on around you. I bet you a million dollars, they’ll be the stories people want to read.” She finished her coffee and got to her feet, reaching behind herself to re-tie her apron.
“You know what, Sal?”
“What’s that?”
“Dan’s a lucky guy.”
“Oh, go on with you. You’re going to make me blush and then I’ll have to explain it to Dan. Save me the trouble, will you?”
Lucy smiled. “I’ve got your back.”
Everything Sal said seemed to clarify the world somehow. She was reminiscent of a female bartender—eminently wise and worldly in a small-town way. They all loved her.
The bell on the door jingled, and Lucy’s gaze fell on Brendon who had just entered. He gave her a short wave, but went directly up to the counter to buy a cup of coffee. Holding it, he came to her table, but didn’t attempt to sit down.
“Sorry, can’t stay. Just came in for some coffee.”
“Things are busy?”
He rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. I’m getting pressure from all the way up the line. It turns out that the good doctor has quite a bit of pull and wants this matter settled quickly. I have to tell you, I’m wondering why.”
Lucy pointed around the room. “You might ask all of them. They’ve been discussing your case openly since I came in. They all seem to have a different opinion and have already interrogated me about it.”
Brendon frowned. “What did you tell them?”
“That I didn’t know any more than they did. That you didn’t discuss police business with me, and they’d be better off asking you directly.”
“It’s not as if I have anything clear to tell them. It’s perplexing, Lucy. The whole thing strikes me as strange. The husband is pushing, hard. So hard that it makes him look guilty and wanting to be exonerated as soon as possible. This might be one of those cases that we don’t solve until a year or two down the road. Whoever did it must have had a reason because they took a big chance. But they can’t hide the reason forever. I’ll find it, sooner or later.”
He took a look at the laptop in front of Lucy and frowned. “Have you found anything to write?”
“First I want to thank you for dinner last night. Secondly, don’t worry, I’m not writing about what we spoke about. You were right in everything you said. I’ll look elsewhere for a story.”
“Good girl. I knew you’d see sense eventually. Hey, I have to go. I’ll call you later this evening.”
“I’ll be there.”
Brendon had walked no further than halfway to the door when a shrill voice called out to him. It was Cecilia. “Brendon, we have a right to know. Some of us even go to that doctor. If he murdered his wife, it needs to come out. We need to be warned.”
Brendon spun on his foot and faced Cecilia. �
��If and when I have something concrete to report that doesn’t slander someone’s reputation with lies, I’ll be sure and let you know first, Cecilia. In the meantime, if I were you, I’d be minding my own business.”
Lucy gasped. She’d never heard Brendon be so abrupt and unfriendly. To her, it was proof that the tension was growing and, as he’d said, he was indeed getting pressure from all angles. It was time for her to take a stand and stop bombarding him with what she now perceived to be her own petty problems to solve. With that in mind, she packed up her things, left a nice tip on the table, and followed Brendon toward the door to head home. At that moment, she felt Sal’s Sweets was a hostile environment. Nothing good could come from being there any longer. She was close to the door when someone called her name to gain her attention.
“Hey, Lucy. Come back here a minute, would you?” It was Sal, and the tone of her voice indicated it was important. Lucy obliged and went back up to the counter.
“What’s up?”
“Listen, on a completely different subject, this woman came in earlier this morning. Said her name was Winnie something or other. I haven’t seen her around here before, so I can’t vouch for her. Anyway, she was looking for a job as a companion. She was willing to settle for room and board in return for looking after someone who might need some help around the house. I told her I didn’t know anyone, but then later I got to thinking about your neighbor, Marnie.”
Lucy drew in a breath. It was such a coincidence because that was the very thing she wanted to bring up to Sal and chickened out at the last moment. “Are you thinking Marnie should have a companion?”
“You know it’s all over town that she took a shot at somebody looking through her window the other night.”
“Yes, I know all about it. Living next door, I went out there to try and help, and Marnie nearly used me as shooting practice material. It’s the first time I’ve ever managed to get a look at the inside of her house.”
“That’s what I figured. Marnie’s got problems, there’s no doubt about that. Anyway, I didn’t want to say anything until I’d spoken to you. I thought you’d know Marnie better than most around here, with her living next door to you. The woman left her name and phone number. I thought I’d give it to you when you came in next and I almost forgot.” She searched a few nearby drawers and a few cupboards under the counter. “Dan? Where did I put that piece of paper with that name on it?”
